


Worn and Torn

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Mild Language, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Well-wornShowing the signs of extensive use or wear, but due to being loved and favored.Connor was designed and outfitted to seamlessly integrate with humans.Professional, clean, perfect.





	Worn and Torn

**Author's Note:**

> Me, before: I don’t want to like dbh, not even watch it, because of its trashlord director  
> Me, right now: shit
> 
> tl;dr - I know the game has a ton of problems regarding its writing but I can't help but like it. 
> 
> I still hate David Cage

“Stop touching my stuff. Fucking tin cans…”

Connor frowns. He knew his programming involves being able to work in messy environment being an android for murders and negotiations, but this…

“Lieutenant Anderson, I understand that you are not the epitome of cleanliness, but this place is torn and worn.”

Lieutenant Anderson glares, a scowl adorning his face and Connor simply blinks. “It’s well-loved. Not something you’d know about.”

Aa Connor waits, he glances at the mirror. Sees the sharp, sleek uniform jacket. The strand of hair over the side of his head. The pristine black, white, and blues.

Not torn, not worn.

\---

Blinking the HUD away from sight Connor dismisses the errors regarding the three biocompartments that needs repairs.

A ripped hand and torso only needed a quick trip to CyberLife or a session in Sleep Mode.  
Connor stares at the deviant android feeling something.

The Lieutenant asks about his shirt, the blue blood splattered on the skin and had sunk into the white cotton.

His shoes were scuffed, sleeves bloody and he wishes he has an ace.

Not torn, but worn.

\---

The Lieutenant keeps silent as they enter the car. The blank gaze of the RT600 remains on the forefront of Connor’s memory.

 _“A flower that will never wither,”_ indeed. There were no imperfections. Simply an android, behaving and looking as they were designed.

A hand ruffles Connor’s hair for a moment and ruins the resting position, the way his hair was styled to be neat.

Connor keeps it that way.

\---

“Shit, kid, you need new clothes.”

Connor frowns, looking down on himself. He had taken his tie off to stop the bleeding of one of the androids injured during the demonstration. His sleeves were scratched. The jacket and components underneath the skin of his shoulder were ripped. The bullet from the scuff against RK800 was still in there.

“A minor inconvenience, Lieute – Hank.”

Hank looks disgruntled. “Minor, my ass. I don’t know what shops stayed open and we’re not about to go looking for some at this temperature. I’ve got some from when I was younger.”

Connor blinks slowly, following Hank to his car. “… Is it bad, that I seem to have formed an… attachment, to the jacket?”

The only sound after that was the crunch of snow and the scuff on pavement by their shoes, the wind whispering sweet nothings.

“Nah.” Hank looks over at him and Connor feels like ducking his head into said jacket, wanting to get away from the scanning eyes of Hank. “If you like it, then you shouldn’t give a rats ass. You can keep it, but we’re still getting you something new.”

A hand musses his hair, snow melting and falling from the artificial curls as the hand stays there.

“It’s well-loved, kid.” And only thanks to his advanced making did Connor hear the next set of words. “Just like you, kid.”

In the car, Connor sees himself on the rear-view mirror.

Worn and torn.

(A smile tugs onto his lips, the barest fold of artificial skin.)

**Author's Note:**

> Warm-up piece for the more fluent words to come out, as well as settling into the fandom.


End file.
